FORBIDDEN LOVE

2. I HATE YOU ALL

Dom lay sprawled on the couch, his hands resting on his chest, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but his mind was anywhere but in the room. His mother’s words had been playing on an endless loop in his head, refusing to let him rest. He had tried, really tried, to push them aside, to pretend they didn’t matter, to act like they weren’t slowly chipping away at the walls he had built around his heart.

At first, he convinced himself that the best course of action was to forget—forget that he had ever met Stephanie, forget that she was about to walk down the aisle and marry another man, forget that every fibre of his being screamed at him that she was meant to be his. But forgetting was proving to be an impossible task. How could he erase someone who had embedded herself so deeply into his soul? He figured maybe he didn’t have to forget her, just avoid her.

That was easier, right? He could simply make sure their paths never crossed. He could stop showing up at places where she would be, stop putting himself in situations that would force him to see her, stop torturing himself with stolen glances and lingering thoughts of what could have been. It sounded like a good plan. Logical. Sensible. The only problem? It wasn’t working.

The last week had been pure agony, filled with moments where he was forced to be around her more than he had in the past year combined. He was beginning to suspect that Chris was doing it on purpose, deliberately pulling him into situations where he would have no choice but to be near Stephanie.

Every time his phone buzzed with a message from Chris, he already knew what it would say—an invitation, no, an expectation, that he would show up at his apartment. And because he had never been the type to refuse his best friend, because he had always been the kind of person who showed up when asked, he kept going, kept putting himself in the one place he didn’t want to be.

It wasn’t just casual hangouts anymore, either. No, somehow, he had found himself entangled in the wedding preparations, playing a role he never wanted, standing there as they picked out colour schemes and centrepieces as if he wasn’t slowly suffocating under the weight of it all. What was even worse was that, according to Chris, this wasn’t his doing—it was Stephanie’s idea. She wanted their friends to be involved. And that was the part he didn’t understand. Why? Why would she want him, of all people, to have a hand in planning her wedding?

For all he knew, she couldn’t stand him. The way she looked at him, the way she spoke to him, the way she always seemed amused when he was stuck doing something he hated—it was like she found joy in his misery. So, what was this? Some kind of cruel game? Some twisted way of making him suffer? Because if it was, it was working.

And yet, as much as he wanted to be angry, as much as he wanted to resent her for putting him through this, there was another part of him, a ridiculous, foolish part, that couldn’t help but hold onto the moments when she laughed at his discomfort. Not in a mean way, not in a way that made him feel small, but in a way that made her eyes light up, that made her throw her head back and let out a laugh so genuine it made his chest tighten.

He hated feeling like a fool, but he hated it less when she was the reason for it. Was it weird? Probably. Was it pathetic? Absolutely. But that didn’t stop him from doing things he despised, just for the chance to see her smile. And God, her smile. He had thought it was beautiful the very first time he saw it, and no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, that hadn’t changed.

He still remembered the first time Chris had introduced him to her. They had only been friends for a month, but even then, Dom had known—they were going to be best friends for life. There was something about Chris that made him easy to be around, like a breath of fresh air in a world filled with suffocating expectations. Chris never boasted about his wealth and never made him feel like he was less than just because at that time, he didn’t come from the same privileged background. Being around him was a break from all the exhausting conversations about expensive weekend getaways and luxury vacations, the kind of talk that had been constant with his childhood friends. Chris was different, and that was what drew Dom to him in the first place.

He was twelve when he first met Chris, and even though he had been older, it had never felt that way. Chris, at eleven, had been sharper, quicker, and far more fearless than Dom had ever been. There was something about him that demanded attention, a confidence that made it seem like he had everything figured out, even at such a young age. Dom had been drawn to that.

He had spent his whole life feeling like he was constantly trying to catch up, but Chris had never made him feel small for it. Instead, he had taken him under his wing, teaching him things he never would have learned on his own. It was Chris who showed him how to move through the world with a certain level of recklessness, how to carry himself in a way that made people take notice, and how to navigate the streets with an edge that kept him from being just another lost boy trying to survive.

Everything Dom knew today, everything that made him the man he was, could be traced back to those early days with Chris. He had been more than a friend—he had been a brother. But that brotherhood had come with a price.

The first time he saw Stephanie, he had been blindsided. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t been prepared for the way his stomach had twisted at the sight of her. It had been nothing serious at first, just a harmless attraction, the kind that any boy his age might have when faced with a pretty girl. But somewhere along the way, that simple attraction had deepened, had grown into something heavier, something he couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried. It had turned into love—real, undeniable, impossible love—and that was when things had gotten complicated. Because loving Stephanie wasn’t just about his feelings. It was about the consequences. It was about what it could cost him. And the biggest price of all? His friendship with Chris.

He had tried to be subtle about it, tried to find small ways to be around her without making it obvious, but Stephanie had never made it easy for him. Every attempt he made to talk to her was met with sharp words and cold stares. No matter how polite he was, no matter how much effort he put into showing her he meant no harm, she had always been ready to shut him down before he could even get a full sentence out. At first, he thought maybe it was just her personality, that she was just naturally guarded. But over time, he realized it was more than that. Stephanie had a reason for hating him. She blamed him for Chris. For everything Chris had become.

It was a ridiculous accusation, one that couldn’t be further from the truth, but it didn’t stop people from believing it. To everyone who knew them, Chris had once been the golden boy, the perfect son with a bright future, until Dom came into the picture. They said he had corrupted him, that he had been the one to drag Chris down, to turn him into someone unrecognizable. But that was a lie. Chris had always had that side to him. The recklessness, the need to rebel, the thirst for danger—it had all been there long before Dom ever stepped into his life. In fact, it had been Chris who had introduced him to that world. It had been Chris who had taken him places he never should have gone, who had shown him things that had changed him forever. But no one wanted to believe that. It was easier to blame Dom.

The worst of it had come when Chris had been shot. Dom would never forget that night. The blood. The sirens. The sheer panic in his chest as he watched his best friend go down. And then, the aftermath. Chris’s mother, her fury unchecked, had slapped him so hard across the face that his ears had rung for minutes afterwards. She hadn’t cared that he was just as scared as she was, that he had been the one dragging Chris to the hospital, begging him to hold on. No, to her, it had been his fault. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. When he had been shot a year later, when he had lain in a hospital bed fighting for his own life, no one had come rushing to his side. No one had shed a tear for him. Instead, they had said he had it coming. That it was karma. That he deserved every ounce of pain he felt. And when Chris’s father had looked him in the eye and told him that this was just him paying for what he had done to his son, Dom had been too tired, too broken, to even ask what the hell he meant.

To this day, he still didn’t understand it. He had never hurt Chris. He never would. Whatever Chris had gone through, whatever choices he had made, they had been his own. But people needed someone to blame, and Dom had been the easiest target. No one had cared that he had almost died that night. No one had thought twice about the fact that he had lost a whole year of his life recovering from a bullet wound he hadn’t asked for. Because in their eyes, he wasn’t Chris. And if he wasn’t Chris, he wasn’t worth caring about.

Scott dropped down onto the couch beside him with a smirk, his eyes scanning Dom’s expression before shaking his head in amusement. “Even a six-month-old baby could tell you don’t wanna be here,” he said, his tone teasing yet laced with curiosity. “What’s up?”

Dom barely spared him a glance, his fingers tapping aimlessly on the table in front of him as he let out a sigh. “Weddings are not really my thing,” he muttered, his voice void of any real emotion as if he had already accepted his miserable fate.

Scott leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded his friend. “Dom, it’s not even the wedding day yet and you already hate the preparations. Are you even coming to the wedding?”

Dom scoffed at the mere suggestion. “Why should I? It’s not my wedding. I don’t see a reason why I should be there.”

Scott rolled his eyes, exasperated. “How about the fact that Stephanie is getting married?”

At that, Dom stiffened for a second before forcing a bored expression back onto his face. “Should that mean something to me? I don’t remember being related to her.” His voice was clipped, and dismissive, but Scott wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Dude,” Scott said, giving him a look. “She’s our best friend’s twin sister. Surely that must mean something to you.”

“How about no? It means nothing. She hates me, I hate her, and that’s all there is to it.” Dom’s tone was firm, but Scott just laughed, shaking his head at him like he was the biggest i***t in the world.

“She hates you. You don’t hate her,” Scott corrected, amusement dripping from every word.

“Yes, I do,” Dom shot back stubbornly, but Scott wasn’t letting this go.

“You love her,” Scott declared as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Dude, it’s no secret. Everyone knows you love her. I bet she knows too. Now stop being a p***y and either help prepare for her wedding or tell her how you feel. It would save you a lot of trouble. Your choice.”

Dom groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “Now you sound like my mother,” he grumbled. “Don’t let Chris hear you say that. He’ll kill you, and I mean literally.”

Scott simply shrugged, unfazed by the threat. “Stop avoiding the situation here. Are you going to tell her or not? You need to stop sulking and man up.”

“Nah, man, just leave it,” Dom dismissed, looking anywhere but at his friend.

Scott let out a dramatic sigh. “You know, by the time you decide to man up, it’ll be too late. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Dom waved him off. “I appreciate your concern, bro, really, I do, but it’s better this way. Now go and continue with whatever you were doing and leave me here to deal with these arrogant celebrities who think the sun shines in their asses.” He grabbed the guest list Chris had given him, glaring at the names as if they were personally responsible for his suffering. “Almost everyone on this damn list doesn’t want to perform at his sister’s wedding.” He scoffed, tossing the paper onto the table.

“I don’t even know why they want a singer at their reception, or why they want a reception at all,” he continued, growing more irritated the longer he spoke. “They should just say their ‘I do’s and go wherever the f**k they want for their honeymoon.”

By the time he finished his rant, Scott was outright laughing at him. Dom narrowed his eyes, only to realize that at some point, Ben and Aaron had joined them, both of them watching him with amusement, shaking their heads as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

“What the hell are you guys looking at?” Dom grumbled, feeling slightly self-conscious under their collective stare.

Ben smirked. “Just watching a man in denial self-destruct in real-time.”

Aaron nodded. “It’s honestly fascinating.”

Dom rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch with a groan. “I hate you all.”

Scott clapped him on the back, still laughing. “Nah, man, you just hate the truth.”

Their laughter continued, echoing around him like a cruel joke he wasn’t in on. Dom glared at them, his irritation growing by the second. “What? What is so funny?” he demanded, but they just kept laughing, making him feel like an i***t.

“I think they also expected you to say you have no idea why Stephanie and Mike wanted a honeymoon too,” Marcus chimed in from behind him, his voice dripping with amusement. Dom nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden intrusion, his heart slamming against his ribs.

How the hell did Marcus get there? A few seconds ago, he was talking to Chris. His stomach twisted at the thought—if Marcus was here, did that mean Chris had heard everything too? Because if he did… well, Dom was already as good as dead.

“Look here, bro,” Marcus continued, now walking around to sit in front of him, his expression serious despite the lingering amusement in his eyes. “To save yourself from all this trouble, just stop being a coward and tell the lady how you feel. It’ll save us all some trouble. You don’t wanna be too late.”

Dom swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. He had always thought he hid his feelings for Stephanie well, had convinced himself that no one—not even his best friends—could see through his carefully crafted mask. But the way they were looking at him right now? He knew he had been fooling himself this entire time.

“Everyone knows how much you love Stephanie,” Marcus pressed on. “Even Chris. And honestly? The chances of her knowing too are pretty damn high.”

Dom clenched his jaw, but Aaron was quick to add fuel to the fire.

“I’m not gonna lie, man—you try so damn hard to hide your love for her with hate,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “But we’re your best friends. We know you as well as we know ourselves, and we know what love looks like because of you.

“We see the way you look at her when you think no one is paying attention. Your eyes are always full of what we like to call ‘pure love.’ And the fact that you don’t have a girlfriend? That just makes it even more obvious. You’ve never wanted one. At first, we actually thought maybe you were gay,” Aaron admitted, chuckling when Dom’s face twisted in irritation. “But then we realized you weren’t interested in guys either, so we knew you had your eye on someone. Someone you knew was off-limits. All we had to do was figure out who.”

Dom dragged a hand down his face, sighing in frustration. He had spent years convincing himself that his feelings were his secret burden to bear alone, and yet here his friends were, proving they knew him better than he knew himself.

“My advice?” Ben finally spoke, and that was what sealed Dom’s fate. Ben never spoke unless he absolutely had something important to say. “Tell her how you feel, man. You can still stop this wedding. It’s not too late. I’d support you if need be.”

That was the final nail in the coffin. If even Ben was encouraging this, then maybe… just maybe…

No. No, he was being ridiculous.

“You guys are convincing me to sign my own death warrant,” Dom muttered, shaking his head. “This is suicide. How do I even start a conversation with Steph? What do I even say?”

Scott smirked. “You could start by not being a dumbass.”

Dom ignored him, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I can’t just go upstairs to her room, full of her friends, and say, ‘Hey Stephanie, I’m sorry for being a fuckin’ p***y all these years. I love you, and I want you to cancel the wedding now,’ can I?”

“Of course not, you i***t,” Marcus snorted. “Ask her out nicely. Get to know her—all her favorites, the things that make her happy.”

Dom let out a bitter laugh. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, shaking his head. “I already know everything about her.”

His friends frowned in confusion, but Dom kept going, unable to stop himself. “Her favorite color is green. Her favorite food is pizza. Her favorite show is Riverdale. She wants to be a veterinarian, wants to build her own animal clinic. She wants to have two kids—a boy and a girl—just like me.” He exhaled sharply, staring down at his hands. “Oh, and her favorite car is an Audi R8, which she refused to let her father buy for her on her 18th birthday last year because she wants to buy it herself with the money she worked for.”

Silence.

When he finally looked up, every single one of his friends was staring at him, mouths slightly open as if he had just revealed he was a government spy or something. But the worst part? Chris was standing right in front of him, wearing the exact same expression.

Dom’s heart dropped into his stomach.

When the hell had Chris gotten here? And more importantly—had he heard everything?

Dom cleared his throat, forcing a casual shrug. “Why are you all looking at me like that? Did I forget anything? What did I leave out?” he asked, playing it cool.

Chris’s eyes darkened. “You left out the fact that she’s my sister.”

Oh, s**t.

He’s angry.